Rosalie Belvedere (beaute_endormie) wrote in bellumlogs, @ 2010-01-04 23:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | beast, red riding hood, sleeping beauty |
Who: Rosalie, Boyd, and then Daniel
What: I don't really know. Heart-to-hearts? Some explanations, at least.
Where: Bellum Letale/Giancoma Family's Private Hospital.
When: After this.
Warnings: ...none as of yet. Except that Rosalie isn't very happy-skippy today.
Notes: Vlad is busy making more phone calls.
When Rosalie woke up, it was with the unwillingness of someone whose sleep had not been a restful one. She was still tired, still worried, still guilt ridden, and she still had no idea if Daniel was alright, or why Singer was with him, or who the older man was, or where any of them were. Everything that had happened in the last few days was running together in a mix of events that she could hardly keep track of anymore. Hoping it would help, she got dressed, pulled on a coat, and made a Starbucks run, walking the couple of blocks and letting the gusts of wind tangle her hair and chill her skin, freezing her into a fuller wakefulness.
Windswept and re-caffeinated, Rosalie slowly trekked back to Bellum, still with no idea how to go about finding Daniel or Singer, the two she was most concerned about. Reluctantly, she bypassed the seventh floor on her way up the stairs, and instead exited onto the tenth. Her old home, she thought ironically, the place that had been so nice that she had thought it was a fantastic idea to come back. That was turning out just wonderfully, of course.
An apartment door opened and Rosalie froze for a second, thinking Luca, and knowing that Trenton had to have told him the story of her arrest by now. But it wasn't Luca. Instead a shifty, dark-haired stranger with a full bag exited the apartment that belonged to Luca's neighbor. Singer's apartment. Backing into a shadowy corner, she had the sudden urge to run away and hide, but there was no place to go. The intruder glanced around once before taking the elevator, but his eyes skated over her, not spotting her in the shadows of the early morning. When the elevator closed on him, Rosalie stared at the metallic doors for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. Then, without thinking about what she was doing, she started back down the stairs at breakneck speed, somehow managing to get to the lobby in one piece despite three-inch heels. The man was just leaving the building and she started after him, watched him approach a shiny black sedan with tinted windows. She made it outside and raised her arm for a taxi, just as the car sped off. Two drivers screeched to a halt; she chose the closest unlucky cab and swung herself inside, ordering the man at the wheel to follow that car, like she was in some kind of movie. Instigating a high-speed car chase in heels and a short winter dress.
The cab driver dutifully sped off after the sedan, honking and cursing and weaving recklessly in and out of the morning traffic like any good NYC driver. The mysterious man got out of his mysterious car just a few blocks away and Rosalie shoved something that far exceeded the correct fare at the cabbie and hopped out, a smile creeping onto her face when she saw where they were. It was a hospital! A private one, and one rumored to have strong connections to the Mafia family that operated in New York, but a hospital all the same. She was in the door before she had time to think that it might not be such a good idea.
Fortunately, chaos reigned inside, with people in white coats hurrying about, many pushing stretchers that bore rough looking men suffering from various wounds. Nobody noticed Rosalie as she followed the man from Singer's apartment to a less-crowded hallway. She kept a reasonable distance behind him, only half paying attention to where she was going, too invested on not thinking about the last time she was in a hospital, over two years ago now. She nearly missed him as he entered one of the rooms. Quickly, she ducked into what seemed to be a supply closet and waited for what she hoped to be a reasonable amount of time before creeping out again and peering cautiously into the same room. Sure enough, the man was gone, leaving the bag on the ground next to the hospital bed. And in the bed, looking a little worse-for-wear, was Singer. Finally.
Eager to get out of the hall, Rosalie flung open the door and bounded inside, little caring if the other girl was sleeping or not.